ESC: Trapped
by Honestcannibal
Summary: Part 1/3 of the series ESC. Sally Donovan hates small spaces and has a fear of the dark, and it is so unbelievably likely for her to end up getting trapped with Sherlock Holmes in these exact conditions. No no on the pairing, little bit fluffy in a friendship kind of way, no sex, just hurt/comfort.


_**This fanfiction is part 1 of a three part series called 'ESC'. All stories unrelated, but nontheless, part of a whole story. **_

_**I have no idea what inspired me to write this.**_

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**ESC: Trapped**

Sally Donovan blinked as she tried to keep herself from falling asleep at her desk, again. Slowly she turned towards the window to notice just how dark it had gotten and guessed the time was around nine or ten pm. It didn't exactly bother her that she was at the Yard this late, there are times when she was so picked up on paperwork and filing that she had stayed for the entire night and didn't even realise the sun rise through the office windows.

Blinking again, she saved her most recent document on the computer and looked around the office to find, well, nobody. Who else would be here this late when they have families to get home to? Sally sighed, she hated being alone. She never really understood why she enjoyed being caught up on her worked before until she noticed how everybody else had somebody to go home to, when all she had was a freezer full of microwave meals and an old, lonely home.

Her parents had lived in that home when they children, and so had she until her parents passed away and left the house in her possession, needless to say, she never moved out and lived on her own until now. The fact that her parents gave her the house split her and her siblings apart, they claimed that she was selfish and a spoilt brat for getting the biggest item on the Will. What's the point of having a loving home if there's nobody to love it? She had hoped her two sisters and brother would live with her, but they had other ideas. One of them being to completely ignore Sally and piss off with their own happy families.

Sally was initially fed up at this point, just from remembering everything all over again. She looked over her desk and sighed, she rose from the chair, switched off her computer, picked up her old jacket and proceeded to leave the offices and head home.

_'Home'_.

In the corridor in front of the lifts, she heard footsteps approaching. Who would be here this late apart from Sally and the voluntary crazies at the morgue? Then it hit her. She closed her eyes in annoyance and didn't even bother to turn around to know that the one and only arrogant bastard was standing beside her, _Sherlock Holmes. _

"Hello freak." She sighed, pleased that she saw an annoyed glance from him.

"Donovan." He said with his calm, content voice.

God she hated it.

Hoping to get this new found, dark corridor silence over with, Sally continuously pressed the button for the lift and muttered a few curses. As she stood back, she took a longer glance at Sherlock. She wondered if it bothered him to be in the prescence of somebody you dispise, of course she would never dare to ask, that would mean being civil with the freak for more than five seconds.

The lift made a 'ding!' and Sally couldn't have stepped in fast enough once the doors had opened, she had stepped in and turned around fast enough to look Sherlock up and down and move over slightly as he stepped in with his stupidly fancy coat and strong cheekbones. There was complete silence as the doors closed and the lift began to move downwards, until Sally spoke, "Why are you here so late then, and where's your handy lapdog?"

"Molly didn't seem to know when to stop talking and John, he's possibly out with one of his new girlfriends, can't seem to remember which one, or reading a pointless book at the flat." Sherlock glanced down at Sally during his answer, upon seeing her eyes literally digging into his thoughts. He was just so weird and Sally really wanted to know _why. _

She began to speak again and the lift jolted, causing both of them to lose their balance and fall against opposite corners of the lift. The lights flickered and then turned off completely, leaving both Sherlock and Sally, staring at each other in the darkness of the still lift. Sally was first to speak,

"You have got to be kidding me." She said in shock, "you seriously have got to be kidding me right now." She looked around the lift, quickly she took her phone out of her pocket and checked it for signal. After a painstaking ten seconds of trying to get enough signal to at least send a text, she failed miserably and looked back at Sherlock who hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He looked almost panicked, _almost human _to Sally.

As if on cue he broke the eye contact and stood up straight, looking up towards the top of the shaft. Sally swallowed hard and looked around, slowly standing up straight and shivering slightly. Not only did she absolutely _hate _small spaces, she also had a fear of the dark. She looked back at Sherlock who moved towards the middle of the shaft and reached up, jumping slightly to push the small door on the roof up. Voluntarily, Sally stood forward when he failed to reach it the first time, "give me a boost." She stood next to him expectantly. Sherlock stared at her, "a what?"

"A boost, you know." She practiced the action with her hands, showing him what to do and how to lift her. He stared at her blankly,

"Why do I have to lift you?"

Sally sighed, "because I'm lighter, just do what I say."

And to Sally's surpised, Sherlock linked his hands to together and knelt down slightly without another word. She took off her heeled shoes and placed her foot in his hands, slowly he lifted her and she ended up on his shoulders trying to open the shaft door and balance at the same time. Luckily today, she decided trousers over skirt, and she silently thanked Anderson for spilling coffee over her skirt the other day for that.

"Come on you piece of shit, I do not want to be locked in this stupid lift all night with a psychotic freak." She muttered under the breath as she thumped the door with all the strength, upon having this strange sort of intimacy with Sherlock caused her to use her desperate side. If anybody had told Sally that was was going to be trapped in a lift shaft and on Sherlock's shoulders trying to break out, she would have laughed in their face.

The door wouldn't open and Sally climbed down from Sherlock's shoulders with fear mixed with irritation. "It's no good, it won't open."

"I gathered." He said quietly as he brushed himself down and then leant against the opposite wall.

"I can't believe this, this is just great!" She almost felt like crying with anger. Sally was becoming more and more distressed as she sat down on the cold metal floor and shivered again, her thin jacket not doing a good enough job.

"Here."

Sally looked up to see Sherlock offering his coat from across the lift. Astonished, she stared at him with wide eyes. '_Sherlock Holmes is offering me his coat. Sherlock Holmes is being nice. To me.' _She thought.

"Why?" She asked with confusion obvious in her voice.

"You're cold." He said simply, pushing the coat closer to her. She hesitantly took it from him and wrapped it around herself; it was really warm, no wonder he always wore it.

"Thanks..." She looked away from him in an attempt to hide how greatful she was for the thoughtfulness of that freak. "Won't you be cold though?" She asked suddenly, feeling as if she should consider him like he considered her.

"No." He rolled his eyes,"I wouldn't have given you my coat otherwise."

Sally felt a small smile on her lips and she looked down at the large coat wrapped around her; she almost felt guilty. She had doubted Sherlock so many times before and always been so dismissive of him, resulting in him doing the same. Noticing that she had actually never seen the nice side of Sherlock, she looked back up at him to find him sitting across from her, staring up at the ceiling.

"Frea-Sherlock," She says a bit too loudly than she hoped, grabbing the man's attention, almost jolting him from his thoughts. He looks at her, his face a bit different than usual. She continues realizing that she had just said his name and he is, in fact, waiting for her to talk, "how do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" He asks, sounding a bit amused.

"The whole...thing that you do, how do you do it?"

Sherlock studies her for a few moments before replying, "I observe."

"Everyone _observes._" She rolled her eyes.

"No, everyone _sees_ but they do not _observe._"

"All right, so observe me then. Right here, tell me everything you can gather just from _observing _me." She says in a challenging tone, "where nobody can see your talent."

Sherlock sighs and looks around the shaft before setting his eyes back on Sally, "From the smell of your jacket, I can only assume that it's been in the back of Anderson's car for roughly around four days, and during those four days you've been constantly reminding him to give it back to you before his wife finds it, because that's the last thing you would want considering you live alone and have nobody to defend you against a psychotic houswife out for blood." He takes in a breath. "Right now I can see that you're scared, how you're shaking slightly on the upper half of your body and how your eyes aren't focused enough to be interested in anything that I'm saying, possibly from claustrophobia and that you're trying to distract yourself from facing the true fact that we're both in a very confined space by asking questions which you're not particularly interested in." He says, then continues. "Judging by your current state of mind, you're trying to find comfort in something and that something, or rather somebody, would be me."

Sally stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say, "wow, you are the real thing aren't you?" Sherlock hummed in response with a quick raise of the eyebrows. Sally looked around the shaft again and began shaking slightly, what Sherlock had said was true, she was hoping to distract herself from realizing where she was and who she was with. Anderson wasn't going to let her live this down.

_'I'm surprised you're still alive if I'm honest. Hell, I'm surprised he's still alive, I thought you two would have been at each other's throats.' _Anderson would laugh.

Taking a deep breath, Sally closed her eyes and tried to relax, bringing her knees up to her chest and inhaling the scent of Sherlock Holmes from his coat, which was strangely relaxing. "You were kind of wrong." She suddenly says. Sherlock looked back at her as she began to speak again, "I don't just have a fear of small spaces, I hate the dark too." She admits, breathing deeply and tensing at the small creaking noises she can hear. She swallows heavily before continuing, "when I was a kid, my dad used to leave the hallway light on for me, because I thought there was a monster under my bed or on the stairs. My brother and my sisters all took the piss out of me, telling me I was an idiot for believing in monsters, but you know, as a kid you think of this stuff."

Sally breathes deeply again, "One night though, my dad didn't leave the hallway light on, I remember it was a few days after my eleventh birthday and my mum kept trying to help my fear of the monsters under my bed, so I assume she told my dad to not turn the light on. Anyway, that night I laid awake in bed just staring out into the hallway and I got scared and sprinted into my parent's bedroom, in floods of tears, claiming that I'd seen a flippin' pair of eyes in my doorway. Pretty stupid, I know, but I was a kid and I was terrified. Always have been, always will."

There's silence when she finishes speaking and she wonders if Sherlock even listened to anything she just said, of all the people she could open up to, it had to be the freak. She doubted that he even cared about her or her life story, so she sighed and took a glance at him to see that he had been watching her throughout her whole story. He had actually been listening to her. Whether or not he had anything to say, she didn't know, all she knew was that Sherlock had _actually listened, _and Sally really wasn't used to people listening to her.

"Keep talking," He stunned her out of her thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

"Keep talking, it helps."

"I don't...I don't know what to talk about," Sally breathed deeply and closed her eyes, "it's too small in here, how long until we get out?"

Sherlock went to speak but Sally interrupted, her tone obvious with panic, "seriously, how long until we get out? It's too small, I can't breathe." She began, "I can't breathe, Sherlock, it's too small, I can't breathe."

Sally was well aware of her panic attack, that didn't help it at all either. She closed her eyes tightly and felt the heat rush over her body as she struggled to deal with the situation. Her eyes began to water as pure panic flushed over her body, shaking her hands and shoulders. Her shoulders suddenly felt heavy but she didn't care, she was too busy concentrating on not _dying from a panic attack._ There was a soothing sensation spreading from the heavy weight on her shoulders and down to her arms and through her chest, allowing her to breathe deeply and calmly.

She heard Sherlock's smooth voice over the fear blocking her ears, although she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She then started to feel his hand on her shoulder, stopping her from shaking, and his other on her back that was pacing small circles . Slowly Sally began to calm and breathe normally again, she looked up to see a pair of grey-blue eyes staring into her own.

The silence between them was almost awkward; Sally was slighty embarrassed by her outburst and weakness, but she doubted that Sherlock sensed anything at all. She never figured him as a social-aware person, seeing as he was an entirely awkward person.

As quickly as she noticed the upcoming silence, Sherlock began speaking. "Are you alright now?" He asked firmly, concern obvious in his voice.

Sally nodded and Sherlock removed his hands from her shoulders, he went to shuffle back to his spot oppsite her before she patted the space next to her eagerly. She had just had a serious panic attack, she couldn't blame herself for wanting _some _sort of comfort, even if it was from _him_ of all people.

Sherlock gave her an odd look but followed her actions and sat next to her hesitantly, of course not too close in case of invasion of the 'personal bubble' everybody speaks about.

"How did you know that would calm me down?" Sally asked looking at him once he'd sat next to her.

Sherlock was silent for a moment before responding, and it wasn't what Sally was expecting. "I used to suffer from panic attacks as a child. My brother used that technique on me and it helped. Minimal amounts, of course, but regardless, I began to calm down."

Sally nodded, intrigued."Why did you suffer from them?"

"Can't quite remember." Sherlock admitted as if in thought. A comfortable silence fell among the both of them for, as Sally assumed, a good ten minutes or so. Sally debated what she was going to say next,

"Listen, Sherlock-" She turned to face him.

"Apology accepted."

She paused. "What? How did yo-"

"After years of constantly disliking each other, we end up getting trapped in an elevator shaft together and _having _to cooperate for any chance of not killing each other. During this cooperation, we both discover new information about the other and soon we have some sort of guilt, a type of burden, hanging over our heads for judging before knowing so we apologise and feel better about each other. Very cliché, but I assumed it would be judging by the scenario at hand." He explained then turned to look at her, offering a small smile.

Sally blinked a few times and opened her mouth, but then deciding to close it and then actually speak. "Guess you're human afterall then." She chuckled and leant back against the wall, hearing the small laugh from Sherlock.

"Of course when we do get out of here, we should act as before to avoid questions and assumptions."

"Yeah, John might get jealous."

Before Sherlock could reply, a shout was heard from above them. The two looked at each other before jumping up from their spot on the floor and yelling to the people above them, probably office security finally finding out that the lift was stuck.

After a few minutes of waiting, the lift soon began move upwards and the doors were forced open just enough for somebody to squeeze through. "Come on, quickly." An officer's head appeared through the gap in the doors.

Sherlock allowed Sally to go first before making his own way out, just to see John standing there with Lestrade, a concerned look on both their faces which soon turned into surprise.

"Finally." Sally groaned, "thought I was going to go crazy before I got out."

"How long have you two been in there?" Lestrade looked Sally up and down, seeing her messy hair, tired eyes and that she was wearing Sherlock's coat made him glance at John before focusing his eyes on Sherlock.

"Three hours, twenty two minutes." He replied, cocky as ever.

"I was stuck in a lift with him for three and a half hours." She almost felt like collapsing from exhaustion.

John cleared his throat, "yeah, I started to get worried when you weren't answering your phone, so I came down here and tried to use the lift."

"Thank god you doubted me, John." Sherlock replied. John rolled his eyes but focused on Sally.

"You're, uhm, you're wearing his coat." He pointed out, offering a small nod towards her.

"Obviously." Sherlock glanced at Sally, who looked down at herself, forgetting that she was. Quickly she unwrapped herself from the warmth of it and shoved it into Sherlock's hands.

"I've had my fun tonight so now I'm going to go home and sleep." She said sarcastically, hoping to change the subject. She waved at Lestrade, who had gone to to speak to an officer, and glanced at Sherlock, "bye freak."

"Donovan." He replied without so much as looking at her. Not that he didn't see the small smile on her lips as she turned away and began walking.

John cleared his throat again and looked up at Sherlock. "What?" The taller man asked.

"Nothing. You just, well, you two then. Alone in a lift." John let a smile play at his lips as he spoke.

Sherlock almost looked insulted, "don't be so ridiculous, John." And he turned on his heel and walked down the corridor to the stairs, John following quickly afterwards.

"You can't blame me, she was wearing your coat!" He called from behind.

"It was cold." Was all Sherlock said before opening the door to the stairwell.

**~end~**

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**AN: **

**Yes, I am now part of the Sherlock fandom. **

**Hello. **

**This series is probably the only Sherlock-related thing I am ever, **_**ever **_**going to write. I'm not comfortable with my style of writing or my character views so, yeah. Sorry if it's a bit OOC or just plain ridiculous, this is literally my first time writing a Sherlock fanfiction so have mercy on my soul. **

**Hope you enjoyed! **


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